Danvers Pointe— Episode Nineteen

Last week: Jackson loosed more kerosene on the mill and more tire iron on the cultists. Cody participated in the ritual. Darla confronted Eleanor.

Danvers Pointe, Massachusetts — 1938

Eleanor flickered, a loud electrical pop echoed off the walls— And she ceased to exist.

The hummingbird inside Darla’s chest stopped. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the emptiness where Eleanor had stood seconds ago.

The room exhaled. Robed figures blinked as if waking from hypnosis. One man looked down at his hands as if unsure how they had gotten there.

“Fire!”

The word detonated through the mill. Panic took over instantly.

Bodies surged.

Robes tangled.

Lanterns swung wildly.

Some tripped and fell. Others screamed. Someone shoved past Darla hard enough to spin her sideways.

She glanced up at the flames that were tearing at the aged timber like hungry animals. Dark char smoldered in their all-consuming wake.

The old bones of the mill wouldn’t last long.

The tear hovered, no longer perfectly centered in the chalk circle. It drifted inches above the boards, darker than any shadow the fire could cast.

A woman stumbled backward across the circle amid the chaos. Lightning struck, and she vanished mid-scream.

Darla spun, scanning the room.

“Cody!”

Smoke stung her eyes. Heat climbed fast now, devouring old wood.

People stampeded toward the doors, knocking over anything in their way, slamming into machinery and fighting for the exit.

Some had turned into human pyres, screaming and bolting around slamming into timber and people alike, spreading the flames like a deadly contagion.

“Cody!” She called again.

She couldn’t see him in the smoke. Not in the crush. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

A piece of wood skittered past her; she watched as it came to a rest over the chalky white runes. Tiny flames ate at the wood under itself, casually erasing the chalk.

The tear pulsed, darkness seeping from itself. It hovered forward. Then halted as more people bumped into its space, and more people disappeared with sharp acrid electrical snaps.

“Cody!” This time she screamed.

There was no answer. Only fire. Only chaos. And the rising certainty that he was still inside. The smoke thickened in waves, rolling down from the rafters in dirty gray curtains.

The heat had changed from distant to immediate. It pressed against her skin, curling the edges of her vision.

She saw Jackson through the haze. He was near the back wall. His trousers were charred. He was clutching a tire iron and peering through the smoke.

“Jackson!” she shouted.

He looked up. For one second their eyes locked. Relief flared in her chest. She pushed toward him. A body slammed into her from the side.

Her feet left the floor.

She hit the boards flat on her back, the impact knocked the air from her lungs in a silent explosion. The shooting pain sliced up through her spine and screamed through her mind.

Before she could suck in breath, something crashed down across her

midsection. The last remaining oxygen she had in her lungs was forcefully expelled.

A burning timber lay across her stomach.

Fire licked along the length of it, but the thick robe she still wore smothered the flame where it pinned her, saving her delicate flesh from the devouring for the moment. Smoke poured upward wrapping the beam in its embrace.

She tried to sit up but couldn’t. She tried to push it off, but the smoldering wood seared her palms. The beam was heavier than it looked. Her ribs screamed.

“Please,” she gasped.

The mill groaned above her. Timbers popped like rifle shots as heat worked its way through old sap and brittle grain. She tried to shimmy out from under it, but it held her tight. The air was thinning fast.

Through the smoke, she saw him. Cody. He was weaving through the chaos, not toward the door— Toward her.

“Go!” she tried to shout.

It came out raw. She erupted in a coughing fit as she inhaled as much as her lungs would allow. He didn’t slow. He stepped over a quivering, charred body.

The tear hovered beyond him, no longer perfectly centered in the chalk circle. It drifted inches above the boards, dark, hungry.

Another cultist stumbled backward in panic. He crossed behind Cody, maybe two feet from it she guessed. He flickered and vanished with nothing more than a loud pop. Just like Eleanor.

Cody didn’t see it moving behind him. Didn’t understand what the sound meant. His eyes were on her.

He pushed past a screaming woman. Darla tried to scream out and warn him, but it was too late. His eyes snapped away from her, and he stared into the black.

He was inches from the thing. Darla’s stomach sank. She knew this was the last time she would see him; she was going to be alone.

“No!” Darla choked.

Hello my friends. If you’re enjoying this content, please leave a comment.

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Thanks again for your support. Mike